


We're Not Like the Others

by Minastara



Category: The Crow - All Media Types, The Crow: Stairway To Heaven
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2018-08-31 14:50:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8582575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minastara/pseuds/Minastara
Summary: Takes places six weeks after 'A Gathering Storm'. Eric can feel the boundaries of his mind breaking and with Shelly gone there is nothing to keep the Crow at bay. But when someone kidnaps a woman and her child, can Eric find a new purpose? ED Slash





	1. An Intuition

**Author's Note:**

> _Italics_ – past events or memories  
>  _‘Italics’_ – thoughts  
>  ** _BoldItalics_** – Eric’s visions  
>  _Underlined Italics_ \- Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weeks after Shelly returns the Crow to Eric, he is struggling and the Skull Cowboy drops in to drop some hard truths on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Italics_ – past events or memories  
>  _‘Italics’_ – thoughts  
>  ** _BoldItalics_** – Eric’s visions  
>  _Underlined Italics_ \- Memories

He felt like he was losing his mind. As he sat there, looking at the broken window, in an apartment filled with broken dreams. He couldn’t feel her anymore. He knew that her spirit must have moved on, leaving him stuck alone in this plane.

He also knew that she didn’t have a choice in the matter. Shelly would not leave him. Ever since Shelly came back and returned the Crow to his body, he has felt this emptiness. A hollow feeling where Shelly’s spirit was always with him. As he strummed the cords of his guitar, he poured his sadness into it.

“That’s some depressing stuff you got there, Eric,” Sarah said as she came to sit next to her morose friend.

“If you haven’t noticed, my whole situation is depressing,” he said, never looking up from his playing. “What do you want, Sarah?”

“Nothing. Just wondering if you wanted to go to the movies with me. Not like last time! It’s PG-13, I swear,” she quickly explained.

“Sorry, Sarah. Maybe some other time,” he said, still not looking up from his playing.

“What is up with you, man?!” she yelled, venting her frustration. Eric finally stopped and looked up from his guitar.

“Nothing is going on, Sarah. What makes you think that?” he asked, setting his guitar on its stand and went to gaze out the window.

“You’ve been acting down right weird, even for you. I mean you haven’t left this loft in _two months_ , Eric! Everybody’s worried.”

Turning to look at the young girl, with a raised eyebrow, Eric asked, “Oh, yeah, who?”

“Shea, me, even Daryl. We’re all worried about you,” she responded. Eric returned to looking out of the window, his back turned to Sarah.

“I think you should go back to school, Sarah. Thank you for coming to check on me, but I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not! Just because Shelly is gone, doesn’t mean you should waste your life away. Shelly wouldn’t—”

“Sarah! Leave!” he shouted, harshly, leaving no room for her to mistake his command. At first, he thought she would argue with, but then he heard the shifting sound of a backpack and skateboard.

With a quiet ‘Fine, then,’ and a door slam, Sarah was gone. Exhaling a sigh of relief, Eric looked down at the darken fingernails and knew that the Crow part of him was close to the surface. That part of him that fed on emotions like anger, despair, and channeled it into violence, a weapon.

It wasn’t the fact that Sarah had mentioned Shelly that had brought forth the Crow in him. No, it was the fact that Sarah was right.

Something _was_ wrong with him and it was facing him in the mirror. The Crow was becoming uncontrollable. With Shelly gone, the Crow was coming through more often. That was the real reason he had cut himself off from those around him. The tiniest burst of anger seemed to set it off. He was afraid, afraid of what he might do to the one who incurred his anger and he couldn’t regain control in time. This brought to mind his little visit from the Skull Cowboy just three weeks ago.

~8~

_The sound of bones rattling was the only warning Eric got before the Skull Cowboy, emissary for the other side, stepped forth out of nothing._

_“How’s it going, brother? All’s well I hope,” the dark man asked with the ever-present smile on his face._

_“You know damn well everything’s not okay. Where is Shelly, Skull Cowboy?” a Crow possessed Draven grabbed the man by the front of his dark coat._

_“Shelly’s gone, man. She made a deal. To save your birdie hide, she had to stop waiting in the in-between,” Skull Cowboy explained. He felt the hands loosen from his jacket and watched the Crow persona give way to the man that was Eric Draven. Eric dropped to his knees, as if the weight of such knowledge was too much for him to bear._

_“Wha-what? She’s gone?” he stuttered._

_“Sorry, man. That was the deal. And as I see it, you have two choices. One,” he flicked up one of the skulls on his bracelet. “you can stay here on this mortal coil and cause all kind-s-s-s-s of mischief when you crack.” He flicked up another skull from his bracelet, “Or two: find another reason to remain in control, reconnect.” When he received silence at his suggestion, he shrugged. “Fine, then. It’s your soul, but I must ask: Who do you think the first victims will be?”  He turned around, walking towards the door. Eric thought about that for a second. It was easy to picture the destruction and death the Crow could visit upon others. It thrived on the discord, and just to taunt him, it would go after the people he cared about. Sarah…Shea…Albrecht…_

_“How do I do it? How do I reconnect?” Eric asked, his voice softened by this revelation._

_“You’re a smart boy. I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Skull Cowboy said without turning back to Draven. “Now, I must go. Lots of souls to check on. And Eric, tick-tock, my brother, tick-tock.” His voice fades and with the rattling of bones, he vanishes, leaving Eric once again alone in his thoughts._

~8~

And here he was three weeks later still with no clue as to how to stop the Crow from taking over completely. He had no idea how to ‘reconnect’ as the Skull Cowboy had suggested and he had just made a mess of things with Sarah. He knew she was only trying to help, but he knew there was nothing she could do.

 _‘As soon as this is squared away, I’ll make it up to her,’_ he thought. Just then his spirit guide, his crow, cawed at him, dropping something onto the dirty floor. Eric knelt down and saw that it was a small earring. The bird cawed at him again and Eric picked it up. As soon as he did, his mind was assaulted by various images and emotions.

**_Masked men, there were two, pushed their way into a house. The first thing Eric sensed was the woman’s fear as she struggled with the men. A man ran from another room and tried to stop them. One of the masked men shot him. The woman screams. The man with the gun holsters it and tells the other man to take her to the car. The other man knocked the woman out and drags her to the car, as commanded. The vision stops as the woman’s earring fell to the ground._ **

Eric jerks out of the vision and looks at the crow. The crow caws once more and then flies out of the window. Eric grabs his jacket, and heads outside, making his way to his bike. _‘Perhaps Sarah was right. Maybe getting out is just what the doctor ordered.’_

 

~8~ 

To be continued…


	2. Confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eric follows his Crow to an old friend that needs his help and drops himself in the middle of Daryl's case. What else is new? :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Italics_ – past events or memories  
>  _‘Italics’_ – thoughts  
>  ** _BoldItalics_** – Eric’s visions  
>  _Underlined Italics_ \- Memories

There were times that Daryl Albrecht, detective at Port Columbia PD, hated his job. He was currently walking through a crime scene that was one the home of Mr. and Mrs. Jacob Cole. Mister Cole was on his way to the hospital, though his prospects were bleak. There were signs of a struggle, but no sign of Mrs. Cole or their two-year-old daughter, Krissy. CSU had already gone through the place, finding nothing, but a single shell. Undoubtedly from the gun that shot Jacob Cole. _‘But why kill the man, but take the woman and little girl?’_ Albrecht thought as he took a final walkthrough. Something didn’t feel right about this, and the clock was ticking.

Suddenly, Daryl felt a presence behind him. “I don’t know what’s scarier, you doing that or that I’m starting to get use to it,” Daryl said, turning to see his friend, Eric Draven, standing by the stairwell. “What are you doing here, man? If someone —” Albrecht started. 

Draven nodded toward the living room window to the crow perched on the mailbox. “Bird brought me. Have you been able to get any clues about where they took the woman?” Eric asked, looking around the room.

“How do you —” he stopped himself. Sometimes Albrecht forgot that there was more to his friend than a handsome face. “None, and to make matters worse the kid is missing too,” he said, answering his friend’s question. “Can you give me a description of the people that took them?” he asked, taking out his notepad.

Eric just shook his head. “There were two of them. I would guess men from the height and muscle. Both were about 5’11.” He watched as Daryl wrote down all that told him.

“Anything else?” Albrecht asked. Eric shrugged. “Other than the woman was scared out of her mind? No.” Albrecht was about to ask more when he heard the front door slam shut.

“Detective Albrecht?” Daryl looked to where he’d last seen Draven. Seeing no sign of him, Daryl responded, “In here!”

In walked, a man in a very sharp suit. “Who are you?” Daryl asked. The man held up a badge and introduced himself as Marshal Donovan. Daryl inspected the badge and then asked, “What’s the U.S. Marshals got to do with this?” Handing the badge back, Daryl watched as the man place it back in his coat.

“I’m afraid that’s classified information, Detective. I’m going to need everything your lab took from here sent to our office.” Donovan handed Albrecht a card with the address for the local Marshall office.  Deciding that cooperation was best for now, Albrecht said, “Sure, no problem.”

Seeing that the agent no longer seemed interested in him, Daryl made his way to the door. As he walked to his car, one thought went through him. _‘What the hell were the Marshals doing here?’_ Once he was in his car, he sat for a moment to ponder that very question.

“What are the U.S. Marshals doing here?” Eric said from the backseat, unknowingly echoing his companion’s earlier thoughts, and for once not startling Albrecht.

“The only thing I can think of is that Mister and Mrs. Cole aren’t just random victims. I’m gonna head back to the station and see what I can dig up on them,” he said. When he didn’t receive a response, he thought his companion gone. Just as he was about to start the car, he readjusted his rearview mirror and Draven was in the back still looking at the house.

Evidently, something was on Draven’s mind if he was dust in the wind by now. “How have you been, Draven? This is the first time you’ve been out of that apartment of yours in weeks.”

“Same thing, different day, Albrecht. The crow came to me, brought me the missing woman’s earring. I sensed so much sadness and fear from her,” he tilted his head, thinking of what he gleamed. “Though, it was more for her child than for herself.”

“That didn’t answer my question, Eric. How are _you_ doing?” he asked again. He remembered how the Crow had been out of control, but Draven had somehow gotten him back. With the realization that Shelly was gone, Eric Draven retreated to the solitude of his loft. That was the last time he’d seen Draven, a broken man.

Turning to look at Albrecht through the mirror, Draven replied, “Okay, I guess. I’m just trying out some friendly advice, hoping to find a cause.”

“A cause?”  Albrecht said, looking at the back to the house.

“Nothing. See you later, Albrecht.” Just like that, he was gone. All Daryl could do was shake his head.  Starting the car, he navigated his way back to the station.

**~8~**

In an apartment building elsewhere in Port Columbia, a woman woke. She tried to see where she was, but the edges around her vision were still blurry. Slowly, the blurriness alleviated and she managed a good look around. Her surroundings were unfamiliar to her. This place was some type of apartment or at least it used to be, if the broken television and torn couch were any indication. 

She started to stretch her arms to ease the soreness in them, but something stopped her. She tried again, but yielded the same result. Her panic began to rise when she realized her arms were tied to a chair. Her legs were also tied to the chair. _‘How did this happen?’_ she questioned herself. She then remembered the men breaking through the door, shooting Jacob and Krissy screaming... _‘Krissy!’_   She looked around frantically, hoping against hope that her daughter wasn’t in this place. 

She breathed a tiny sigh of relief when she didn’t see a trace of her little girl. She began to try to get loose of her bonds. Hearing a door close, she froze.  A man walked into the room. He was a very muscular man, his low haircut and confident stance let her know that he was a professional. He was still a thug, but a professional one.

“Finally up, huh?” he stated.

“If you don’t let me go, I’m gonna scream my head off until someone calls the police,” she said defiantly.

“Yes, you could do that, but I’m sure you wouldn’t want your daughter caught up in the crossfire that is bound to happen if the police arrive.” He turned and called out to someone in the next room to bring the girl out. The woman’s heart froze in her chest when she saw another man — a man of similar build as the first, though obviously not in charge — come into the room with her daughter in his arms.

From what she could see, the child appeared unhurt. In fact, the girl seemed content to suck on the small lollipop while in a stranger’s arms. Realizing that they held all the cards, she asked, defeated “What do you want with me?”

“Me? I don’t want anything from you. The family, though, that’s a different story.”

 _‘The family...’_   She knew this was bad.

 

“I see I finally have your attention. Now you’re gonna to be very quiet and do everything I tell you. If you do, perhaps we’ll dump this cutie at the next police station and let the cops deal with her. If not, you know what the family will do with her. Do we having an understanding?” He waited for her to nod, her head down in despair, before nodding to his associate to take the child back out of the room. He walked over to stand in front of her.

 

He knelt down and raised her head until he was looking into her eyes. The slow smile that appeared on his face sent chills down the woman’s spine. “The boss is going to be extremely pleased to see you again, Sonia.”

~8~

Draven followed his spirit guide as it led him to where he needed to be. Though to be honest with himself, he wasn’t really paying attention. He just let his instincts take the lead, which left him to his thoughts.

He hadn’t gotten anything new from being at the house. He began to wonder if perhaps his power had once again deserted him, but since the crow was with him, it was unlikely. The best possible scenario was that there wasn’t anything that would help him at the house, so here he was once again following his crow. He stopped his motorcycle outside a hospital. He still had no idea why he was there. Then, he heard a sharp caw. He looked up to see his crow, perched in front of a third-story window.

He went inside, the smell of antiseptic hitting him as he entered. He headed for the elevators and once inside, he pushed the button for the third floor. Once the door opened, he headed to where he felt the pull of the bird.  He walked pass the nurse’s station, seeing the police guard talking up a nurse.

He didn’t hesitate as he walked into the room, softly closing the door behind him. He waited a moment to see if he’d been noticed. When he heard no footsteps, he breathed out a sigh, turned, and walked towards the bed.

Lying there was the man he’d seen in his earlier vision, the man shot by the kidnappers. Hearing a caw, Eric looked up to see his bird on the window sill. Once the bird saw that it’d been noticed, it flew off; to where Eric had no clue. He laid his fingers on the man’s hand, being careful of the tubing.

 ** _The man dressed in a bullet-proof vest that said U.S. Marshal on it, gun drawn, and rushing into a building._** The vision then shifted. **_A woman came in and kissed the man. The woman pulled back to reveal…_   **The shock tore Eric from the vision, as he dropped the badge back onto the bed. _‘Sonia!’_   The woman kidnapped was Sonia. Though, the woman in his earlier vision had straight black hair and glass over her eyes, it was still Sonia.

The fact that she was suppose to be under federal protection was what kept him from seeing the resemblance. The man in the bed was more than likely her cover and guard. Then, Eric remembered the kiss. _‘Perhaps also something more...’_   Having the information he came for, Eric carefully sneaked back out of the room and made his way back to his back, dialing his phone along the way.

~8~

 Daryl was tired. This newest case was already driving him crazy. The Marshals weren’t letting him anywhere near the shot victim, Jacob Cole, so his investigation was stalled. Unless Draven could pull something out of his bag, he’d have no choice but to hand it off to the Feds.

As if his thoughts had summoned it, the phone rang. “Albrecht.”

“He’s a U.S. Marshal,” a familiar voiced sounded over the phone. “Who, Draven?”

“The man that got shot, Jacob Cole. He was supposed to protect the woman, his witness,” Eric explained.

“Alright, who’s the witness?” Daryl asked, taking up a pen, ready to jolt down any information Draven had.

“Not over the phone. Can you meet me at the Blackout?” Eric asked. Daryl put the pen down and replied, “Sure. I’ll be there by 1:30.” Daryl took the audible click of the phone disconnecting to mean Draven would be there. _‘Well, that was no stranger than usual,’_ he mused. Checking his watch, he noticed that he had plenty of time to meet up with Draven.

Draven. Now, that was a name he didn’t expect to hear uttered on one of his cases, at least not recently. Eric had been shut up in that loft ever since that thing with Balsom and the Lazarus group, ever since Shelly Webster had left. He had tried to get Eric to talk about it, but all he would say was that she was gone and that it was all his fault. Sarah and Shea had also tried, but there seemed to be nothing that could snap him out of it.

Maybe the fact that Draven was back appearing at his crime scenes meant he’s back to his normal — well, normal as applied to Eric Draven — self.

“Albrecht, my office now!” bellowed Lieutenant Vincennes, knocking Daryl out of his thoughts. Daryl got up from his desk with a sense of dread. Vincennes bellowing before the lunch hour was up never bode well for anyone on the receiving end, naming him. Daryl walked through the door that his captain held open for him, stood before his desk, and waited for the door slam he knew was coming.

He wasn’t disappointed.

After the door slam, Vincennes made his way to his chair on the other side of his desk and sat down. “Albrecht, please tell me why the hell the U.S. Marshals are dogging me about evidence from the shoot and kidnap this morning?” Vincennes asked, though Daryl knew that he had better give his captain an answer he liked.

“Because someone screwed up. One of their own got shot and their witness is missing, sir.”

Vincennes leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, said, “How do you know that, Albrecht? I spent a half-hour on the phone and couldn’t get that much out of them.”

“One of my CIs told me, sir,” Albrecht replied, inwardly wincing as soon as the words left his mouth. _‘Vincennes is not going to like the fact that the informant is Draven,’_ he thought and by the suspicious shift in his captain’s eyes, he was right.

“If the CI is Eric Draven, you’re off the case, Albrecht,” Vincennes stated.

“But, sir—“

“No, Daryl. Draven dragged this department through the mud once. I’ll be damned if I let it happen again. And unless you like walking a beat, you won’t have anything to do with him either,” Vincennes said, hoping to knocked some sense into his friend.

“With all due respect, sir, that’s not gonna happen; not this case,” Albrecht replied, determined. He didn’t want to disobey orders, but there was more involved than just his career.

“What?” Vincennes asked, shocked that Daryl Albrecht would openly disobey a direct order.

“Look, David, Draven is good at what he does and gets fast results, which we need, especially since there’s a kid also missing,” Daryl reasoned, trying to appeal to the father side of his captain. There was silence as Vincennes considered what his detective had said. The time seemed to drag on for Daryl as he waited for his captain’s answer.

“Any evidence you find, make sure to turn over to the Marshal Service. Now, get out of my office.” Daryl moved to do just that. His hand was on the doorknob when his captain spoke again. “And, Albrecht, if I physically see or hear Eric Draven anywhere near this case, you’ll be back to walking a beat so fast it’ll make your head spin.”

“Yes, sir.” Daryl replied, exiting the office as quickly as he could. Once the door was closed behind him, Daryl couldn’t help, but smile. His captain had basically told him to work with Draven. Speaking of which, Daryl took a look at his watch. _‘1:11…If I run the siren half-way, I can meet Eric on time.’_   He quickly grabbed his coat from his desk and all but ran out of the station door to his car.

Unbeknownst to Daryl Albrecht, a figure leaning against the station-house watched him. His dark skin and dark clothes should have made him look suspicious on such a sunny, hot day, instead no one seemed to notice him. As the detective drove away, the figure jiggled the skull bracelet in his hand, shaking his head. _‘This is going to be messy,’_ he thought, jiggling the bracelet again. He turned and started walking down the street, vanishing into the crowd and from this world.

~8~

End of Chapter 2!

_Notes from original posting:_

I’m so sorry for the long wait. This semester has been a killer. I would like to thank Seventh Night and Goth Child of Zyon for reviewing and all those that read, but didn’t review.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter and I promise that the next chapter will be a lot more interesting!

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all!

Later!


	3. The Edge of Sanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Eric tries to find Sonia, he slips further into the darkness. Daryl meets up with an old mobster to pull more information about where to find Sonia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Italics_ – past events or memories  
>  _‘Italics’_ – thoughts  
>  ** _BoldItalics_** – Eric’s visions  
>  _Underlined Italics_ \- Memories

The Blackout was a quiet place to meet up with Albrecht, or at least it was now. During the daylight hours, it was just a building with a few people going in and out, but once the sun goes down it became the hottest club in Port Columbia. This place held a lot of memories for Eric, both good and bad. This was the place he’d first met Shelly. This was the place where he’d defeated Top Dollar and rescued Sarah. It was also the place his friend and boss, India, was murdered in front of his eyes by a psychotic Top Dollar. At the same time, it was also the place Top Dollar defeated him.

Yes, the Blackout with its concrete floors and black walls held many memories for him. Eric continued shifting through his memories until the _clank_ of the door closing hadn’t signaled the arrival of Daryl Albrecht. “You’re late,” Eric said, before turning to look at the detective.

Daryl looked harried and slightly irritated. “You can thank Vincennes for that. He called me into his office about this case and nearly threw me off it when he heard that you were my CI,” Daryl explained.

Eric lifted a brow at that. “Nearly? I’m surprised he let you walk out that office without suspending you.”

“The thought probably crossed his mind, but he said that as long as your involvement is kept to a _minimum_ , I can work this,” he said, walking towards the bar to sit, Eric right behind him.

As Daryl took his seat, he looked around, surprised at the lack of activity around the place. He expected to see, at least, the staff prepping for that night. “Guess being friends with the boss has its perks,” Daryl surmised.  

Eric shrugged, “It doesn’t hurt.”

“Guess not.” With that, Daryl decided it was time to get down to business. “All right, Draven. Who is this witness, that you felt that you couldn’t tell me her name over the phone?”

“Do you remember the Scavullo case about a year and a half ago?” Eric asked.

Daryl nodded and said, “Yeah, as a matter of fact, the federal courts just convicted Joseph Ferengetti on conspiracy to commit murder and several charges of money laundering. What about it?”

“Ferengetti?”

Daryl sighed, and explained, “Yeah. Ferengetti was the one who ordered the hit on the FBI agent. The Ferengetti family runs many local businesses, mostly legit stuff. The head of the family, Joseph Ferengetti, normally runs the more shady business deals with his son running the day-to-day operations of their various companies.

“Now, back to my previous question. What about the Scavullo case?” As soon as the question left his lips, the answer became obvious. “Nah, man, don’t tell me...”

Eric nodded, “It’s Sonia Scavullo.”

“Aw, shit.” Eric’s brows rose at that uncharacteristic response from his police friend.

“What’s the problem?”

Daryl only shook his head. “Nothing, man, it’s just that if the Ferengetti family is involved, then Joey Jr. may be running things now with his father behind bars. Joey Jr. isn’t exactly known for being gracious to women he likes,” Daryl explained, leaving it up to Eric to get the rest.

Eric didn’t like how Albrecht ended that and though he had an idea what Daryl meant, he had to ask. “Does he kill the ones he doesn’t like?”

Eric watched as a shiver of disgust went through Daryl’s body. “Worst. He tortures them. He’s a sadistic SOB, but with Daddy backing him, he’s been hard to catch.”

Something inside Eric froze at the word ‘torture.’ His mind flashed back to the night of his death. He could hear Shelly’s screams, her screams for him. Just as quickly as the memory came, another replaced it.

He saw Daryl laid up in a hospital bed, the victim of Top Dollar’s attack. For what seemed like minutes, he stared at the bruises across his friend’s face. Then, Eric began to feel it, the anger, rising. The longer he looked, the angrier he felt. He could feel the Crow rising, begging to take control.

Eric was close to letting it, when he heard a voice. _“Draven... Draven...”_ the voice, a male voice, called. With each outcry, the anger within him diminished and voice got louder until finally… “ERIC!” With a jolt, Eric jumped back to the present, Daryl shaking him and calling his name. Eric turned and looked into eyes filled with concern. He felt his heart start racing, something that usually only happened when he thought of Shelly. _‘That was strange…’_ he thought to himself.  Before he could contemplate this new sensation more, the owner of those concerned brown eyes spoke.

“You okay, man? I’ve been calling you for about a minute.”

“No worries, man. What’s the game plan?”  Daryl seemed unsure as to whether to believe him or not. Eric wasn’t sure what the detective saw, but Daryl finally nodded his head, apparently satisfied.

“I’m gonna try to run down Joey Jr.’s location, maybe the Marshals can give me a hand with that. You… just do what you do best, but if you find them first, call. Don’t get involved, okay?”

Eric agreed.

Satisfied with that, Daryl got up and headed for the door. Just as Eric reached for the phone to let Shea know he was done, a call of “Draven!” came from behind. He turned in response.

“Good luck,” Daryl said. Eric nodded and the detective left. Eric made his call and exited the club. 

Outside, waiting for him on one of his handle bars was his crow. The bird stared right at him and cawed. “You got something for me?” Eric asked it. It cawed at him twice more, as if to say ‘Of course’ and took flight. Eric ran over and quickly hopped onto his bike to follow. 

**— 8 —**

In the hour that he’d been following his feathery guide, Eric was starting to lose his patience. The bird had led him across Port Columbia; pass the docks into what most would call a dead neighborhood. Many of the surrounding buildings were condemned or close to it. There was hardly anybody around. Even if there were people around, it was highly doubtful they’d talk about anything they saw for fear of retribution.

Eric pulled his bike up to one of the dilapidated buildings as his winged companion settled one again on a windowsill, the top floor window on the far left. Eric rushed up the steps as fast as his legs would carry him. Finally reaching the top floor, Eric got his bearings. To his left was a fire door hanging on its last hinges and to the right were four doors.

Walking as quietly as he possibly could, he disregarded the first two because the doors were completely missed. The third door yielded a bathroom, perhaps once shared by the former tenants. The fourth door, while not opened, was unlocked. He opened the door and entered the apartment. To the left was a sofa and a broken in television set. The magazines lying on the couch were recent issues, so somebody had been there. To his right was a door that more than likely led to the bedroom. He peeked in, though he saw nothing unusual at first glance, he decided to search the room thoroughly.

Having found nothing, Eric resumed his search through the apartment, looking for anything odd. He found it in a chair. The wooden chair stood alone in a corner, beside a boarded-up window. Eric found himself pulled toward it. As soon as he touched it, he was assailed by visions.

**_Sonia tied to the chair as two men came in, one holding the baby. “The boss wants to have a word with you. You will behave, won’t you?” the man sneered, already knowing the answer. Sonia’s head dropped in acquiescence._ **

Strangely enough, the vision shifted.

**_Sonia was still tied to the chair, but there was an additional man before her. This man was about 5’10”, shorter than his companions, but his stance clearly declared ‘leader’. He stepped forward and leaned in to gently caress Sonia’s cheek. It was a gesture reminiscent of something more. That was before he pulled his hand back and slapped her left cheek, hard. “I’m so glad to see you again, Sonia. Did you miss me?” he asked, the slight grin on his face making it obvious that he was enjoying this._ **

**_Sonia turned her face back to him, eyes hard and silent. He laughed at that, and said, “I love those eyes, Sonia-baby. We’re gonna have a lot of fun together.”_ **

Coming out of his vision, Eric could still feel the residual fear and pain left by the young woman. That pain and fear fueled Eric’s anger. He could feel the Crow on the edge of his mind, could already see the darkening of his nails, and feel the cracking of his bones. Not knowing what else to do, Eric just stood still, giving everything in him to not let his alternate persona take control. For a moment it seemed to work until he heard the ‘tick’ of the hammer of a gun being pulled back and a voice asking, “Now, who the hell are you?”

“It’s just some homeless bum, Eddie. You’re probably gonna scare the shit out of him with that,” his companion chuckled, not seeming to care about Eric’s presence.

He knew that first voice. It was the man from his vision, the one who said that his ‘boss’ wanted to speak with Sonia. Eric’s control snapped. “ ‘Who the hell am I?’ you ask...” The body may have belonged to Eric Draven, but it was the white face and black marked eyes of the Crow that greeted the shooter. “I am retribution come on swift wings. It’s time to pay for your sins,” answered the Crow.

As the first bullet was fired, the Crow went into flight. 

**— 8 —**

Frustration was becoming a common thing for Daryl Albrecht. It had taken an hour of him and his captain conferring or rather yelling with the Feds about his need to see Ferengetti, before they decided to allow Daryl access to him. That was how he ended up in his current position on the opposite side of the table from Mr. Joseph Ferengetti and his lawyer in an interview room at the Federal Penitentiary. 

Ferengetti hadn’t changed much since Daryl had seen him being taken away in handcuffs from his nice house. The hard lines that made up his jaw line were clean shaven. His tanned skin was without a bruise or a scratch, a rare sight for a new inmate. Even in prison, a man like Ferengetti demanded respect from others, no matter what it took to achieve it. That was something that Daryl hoped he could use to his advantage. The lawyer wasn’t someone Daryl recognized, though he was probably some overpaid, out-of-towner if the Armani suit was any indicator.

“Having a good time, Ferengetti?” he asked.

Ferengetti smiled a shark’s smile and replied, “As well as can be expected, detective. Please forward all questions to my attorney.”

Said attorney decided to speak. “What is this about, detective?”

Daryl paid the man little mind, his focus solely on Ferengetti. “Little Joey’s gone and done something really bad now that he’s off the leash.”

“And what would that be, detective, and how does it concern my client?”

“He ordered the kidnapping of Sonia Scavullo and her kid, and in the process a U.S. Marshal was shot.” Daryl watched as the shark smile start to slip, replaced by a frown. _‘Interesting. He didn’t know about that,’_ Daryl surmised.

The lawyer didn’t look happy about that news either, but asked, “Again, how does this concern my client and you better answer, detective, or this conversation is over.”

“Oh, it has nothing to do with your client. _Yet_. But when we catch Little Joey, it’ll go easier for your client if we find them alive, especially when the D.A. starts dealing.” Daryl then looked back at Ferengetti. “You know Junior’s a coward. Who do you think he’ll put this mess on?” From the look in his eyes, Daryl knew that he had him. After all, Joseph Ferengetti wasn’t one to let anyone, not even his own son take advantage of him.

Ferengetti leaned over and whispered something into his attorney’s ear. The lawyer replied in a similar fashion, and then looked at his client, silently asking if he was sure. Ferengetti nodded. The sour lemon expression on his lawyer’s face told Daryl that he didn’t like the convict’s decision. Ferengetti leaned forward, elbows on the table, his hands coming together to support him chin. “What do you want to know, Detective Albrecht?” 

**— 8 —**

Daryl left the prison in a better mood than he came in with. He had some leads on where to find Scavullo and her kid, which was more than he had an hour ago. As he started his car, giving it a moment to warm up, Daryl looked at the clock. 5:24 p.m.

He needed to check in with the Vincennes. Just as he reached for his cell, it rings. He pulls back a moment, shocked, then when it rings a second time, he answers. “Albrecht.”

“Get your ass down to the Davenfield Projects now, detective!” bellowed the voice of Vincennes before the inevitable ‘click’ of a disconnected call. Daryl took a second to wonder if people hanging up on him were going to be a continuing theme today. _‘Davenfield Projects? That’s one of the places Ferengetti mentioned,’_ Daryl thought as he put on the siren. As he drove through the streets, Daryl wondered what could have gotten the lieutenant so pissed at him. Then, he remembered the one piece of the puzzle he’d forgotten about and couldn’t help, but groan.

_‘Damn it, Draven!’_  

**— 8 —**

He made it to the projects just as the ambulances were pulling away, the Lieutenant standing outside, talking to Agent Donovan. As his phone call suggested, Vincennes didn’t look happy. Vincennes saw him as he stepped out of his car. He hurriedly finished his conversation with Donovan and walked over to Daryl.

“What’s going on, Lieutenant?” Daryl asked, effectively stopping Vincennes before he got his tirade going.

“We got an anonymous call about two men who would have some information about the Scavullo kidnap. We got here and find one man nursing two broken legs and a broken arm and the other knocked unconscious,” Vincennes answered.

Daryl’s heart froze. He suspected that it was Eric that had done all of this. His suspicion was confirmed as the lieutenant continued. “Before getting doped up for the pain, the one that was awake was screaming about a black-haired devil with a white face attacking them.” Vincennes stopped and looked at Daryl’s face and something must have shown because the lieutenant’s eyes narrowed. “If I find a scratch of evidence, anything, that links Eric Draven to this, I’m hauling him in and busting you down to crossing guard.” Vincennes was close enough in Daryl’s personal space that Daryl swore their noses almost touched. “I don’t want anymore ‘mysterious devils’ on this case. Rein him in and keep the chain on. Do you understand me, Albrecht?”

Daryl nodded, but refused to let the lieutenant put it all on Eric. “Yes, sir, but if Draven did do this, I can guarantee that they made the first move. You can’t blame him for finishing it.”

The lieutenant moved back and raised his eyebrow at the defense Daryl had made for Draven. “Perhaps, but all the same, **get him under control**. Now, tell me what you found out from Ferengetti Sr.”

“Well, he gave me three places his son likes to bring his ‘entertainment.’ This is one of them. It’s where he takes them after has had his _fun_. Did they find anything?” Daryl asked.

Vincennes shook his head. “No signs of a struggle beyond those two goons. Found some dirty diapers and a rattle in the kitchen trashcan, so they had the kid with them alive.” Daryl breathed a sigh. _‘That’s a relief,’_ he thought to himself. If there was one thing that made the job worst, it was a dead child. “What were the other two places?”

Daryl clicked his lighter opened and shut as he answered. “The first place is Joey Jr.’s yacht. Ferengetti said it’s unlikely his son is there because Junior usually reserves the place for the girlfriend of the moment. The second is a room at the Montague. It’s where he likes to take his plaything of the moment.”

Daryl heard his lieutenant curse and couldn’t help, but share the sentiment. The Montague was a Ferengetti owned hotel and casino, which meant the employees weren’t going to be much help because they were either willing to take the rap for their boss or too scare to say anything.

“Okay. I’ll send a couple of uniforms to make sure the yacht is vacant. Then, I’ll see if our Marshal friends can get a judge to sign off on a search warrant this close to close. You have your orders, detective. Get to them,” Vincennes commanded.

Daryl turned and rushed back to his car. As he pulled out, he remembered those ambulances and while he didn’t have a shred of pity for those thugs, he was worried. This level of violence wasn’t usually Draven’s style. Okay, sure. Maybe _one_ broken leg, but never this much. The only time he could remember something like this happening was...

Two months ago. Daryl pressed his foot a little harder on the pedal. 

**— 8 —**

It took Daryl twenty minutes to make it to Draven’s building, in that time he hadn’t been able to reach Eric through the cell phone Daryl had given him. Daryl knocked on the door with a shout of “Draven! You in there?” With no response, Daryl opened the unlocked door. As usual, Eric Draven was crouched in from of his window, staring out and perhaps seeing something that Daryl couldn’t.

“Draven!” Daryl called again.

“What, Albrecht?” came from the crouched figure. If Daryl had been paying more attention, he may have noticed that there was something in Eric’s voice that sounded off, and approached with more caution. The warning went unheeded.

“ ‘What?’ is the right question. What the hell happened to ‘not getting involved’ or ‘call me if you find something’?! Sending two people to the hospital isn’t what I’d call lack of involvement?”

“Would you have preferred they went to the coroner?” Eric inquired.

“What-”

“Besides, they shot at me first and got what they deserved,” Eric interrupted. Daryl didn’t know what to say to that, but those cop warning bells were finally ringing. “Hey man. Are you all right?” Daryl asked, approaching the man more slowly.

“Fine. What’s the next step?”

“We’re done. Vincennes is sending the Marshals to the Montague to round up Joey Jr.,” Daryl explained. Vincennes was right. It was time to pull Draven from this case.

Eric finally stood up. “Little Joey better hope that the Marshals get to him before I do.”

“Draven, you can’t be involved anymore. With Vincennes and Donovan about to make the bust, you staying out of it is the best thing for everyone now,” Daryl said, trying to make his friend realize the truth.

“Sorry, not gonna happen. Joey Jr.’s got a lot to answer for,” the raven-haired man replied. Daryl quickly grabbed Eric from behind in hopes of cuffing him, but soon found his hold reversed, putting him in a chokehold with Eric at his back. Daryl began to struggle with his captor. The arm around his neck tightened. Daryl stopped struggling and the pressure on his throat eased.

Message received; so, Daryl tried a different approach. “Draven...”

“Sorry. Eric Draven’s not home at the moment. If you’d like to leave a message, please wait for the beep. Beep!” the Crow said in its usual taunting tone. Daryl wasn’t put off by it and tried once again to reach his friend before he did something he’d regret.

“Draven, you don’t want to do this!”

“Ah, but he does. That’s what you don’t get, Albrecht. This whole thing with Sonia has managed to push all the right buttons to piss Draven off, so here I am,” the Crow explained. Despite what the Crow said, Daryl did understand, at least some of it. A person with Eric’s history was bound to have some problems with this case, and after everything that has happened in the last weeks... Still, it wasn’t like Eric to lose it like this, to let this half of him run loose. He had to try to talk him down.

“What’s the point of all this?”

“Simple. While the cat’s away, the Crow will play.” The raven-haired man leaned in closer until Daryl could feel his hot breath on his right cheek. “And if you get in my way, I may just take what Draven wants so desperately, but is unwilling to take for himself,” he whispered.

As if to emphasize his point, the Crow pulled Daryl closer, pressing his body—Eric’s body— into Daryl’s. Daryl tried to hold in the gasp of surprise as he felt the erection pressing into his back. For the second time that day, Daryl found himself speechless. But really, what could he say to that?

Then, the solid dick pressing into his back vanished along with the firm body behind him. With no arms around his neck or a body to support him, Daryl’s legs failed him, making him fall to his knees. He took a couple of deep breaths and looked around, already knowing what he’d find.

Eric Draven was gone.

Daryl took a few quick breaths and made his way to his feet. There was a lot about the past few moments that didn’t make sense to Daryl, and when this mess was over he was going to cuff Eric to a chair and make him explain it.

As Daryl rushed out of the left, he knew only one thing for certain; he had to stop Eric Draven, but how do you stop someone who wasn’t technically alive or dead? 

**— 8 —**

End of Chapter 3!

_Notes from original posting:_

Once again, I’m sorry for the long (extremely long) wait. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and who just read!

I’ll try to have the next chapter up soon.

Later!


	4. The Broken Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl races to stop Eric from doing something that will forever darken his soul. The Skull Cowboy gives some advice and teaches some lessons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Italics_ – past events or memories  
>  _‘Italics’_ – thoughts  
>  ** _Bold Italics_** – Eric’s visions  
>  _Underlined Italics_ \- Memories

Siren blaring, Daryl drove like a madman through the streets of Port Columbia toward the Montague hotel. If he kept going at this rate, he’ll make it there in five minutes and hopefully before Eric did something insane.

“Quite a problem, huh?” a voice commented from the backseat. Only quick reflexes allowed Daryl to pull his car back into his lane before he would hit any of his fellow motorists. Taking a deep breath to calm his heart-rate, he looked at his backseat through his rear-view mirror. He saw a dark-skinned man dressed in black leathers with short dreadlocks covered by an equally black hat seating in the center of the backseat. As the man looked over his orange-hued shades, he smiled at Daryl.

“Who the hell are you and what are you doing back there?!” Daryl exclaimed, trying to focus on the road and his new passenger.

“Who I am is inconsequential at the moment; however, we do have a mutual _avian_ friend. The question you should be asking is how are _you_ going to stop him from doing something remarkably and irreparably stupid,” the man said as he leaned forward, his gaze locked with Daryl’s in the mirror. Though the shades did obstruct much of man’s eyes, there was something there, a darkness that reminded Daryl of Eric or rather his Crow.

“You’re like Draven, aren’t you?”

“Yes and no, but again that’s inconsequential. How are you gonna stop the Crow?” the man asked again.

“I don’t know! If you’re his friend, why don’t you stop him? You’d probably have better luck going toe-to-toe with him since you’re alike,” Daryl argued. _‘Just a few more minutes…’_

“Moi? Sorry, mon frère. I’m more of a lover than a fighter. Besides, I’m already going outside the lines with this as it is.”

“If you’re not going to help, what are you doing here?” Daryl questioned. The dark man just grinned. “Why, to watch, of course. Also, to give you a touch of advice: Ego over matter. The body is strong, but only as strong as the mind lets it be.” Just then, Daryl pulled up in front of the casino. He put the car in park and turned toward the back to ask his mysterious passenger what the heck he meant, only to find him gone.

Knowing that he didn’t hear a door shut, Daryl signed. _‘Great. Just what I need. Another vanishing act.’_ Daryl got out of the car, and looked at the hotel while he tried to figure out his next move.

Even after all of these years, the Montague was still an impressive sight. Built in the 1960s, the owners wanted to out-do their competitors in Las Vegas. That meant that the casino was built as tall as the Dunes with ten times the glam of the Golden Nugget. Sadly for the owners, the Vegas mobsters didn’t much appreciate the competition. Mel Goldman and Sam Montague were found in their respective suites dead from gunshot wounds to the head. The cases are still opened to this day, though everyone knew who was responsible. The hotel bounced from owner to owner over the years until Joseph Ferengetti bought the place and restored it to its former glory. When he was in town, Ferengetti ran his business dealings out of the casino, and it seemed his son had picked up the habit.

Unfortunately, trying to find the new crime boss in the 24-story hotel was going to take time that Daryl knew he didn’t have to spare. He tried calling the cell phone he’d given Draven, but the call went straight to voice-mail. A loud ‘caw’ sounded from behind him. He turned to see a rather large crow standing on the roof of his car. Seeing that it had his attention, the bird took flight and landed on one of the windowsills on the eleventh floor. It turned toward him, cawed again, and just stared at him. Looking into those black, knowing eyes, Daryl remembered something Eric once told him. _I’ll follow that bird anywhere. ‘If he’d follow the bird, maybe the reverse is true,” _ Daryl thought. Quickly noting the window position, Daryl ran to the elevator. The elevator seemed to take forever before it came to the eleventh floor. He had his gun out and ready when the elevator doors opened.

There were bodies laid out on the floor, all men in various stages of unconsciousness. Guessing that these were Ferengetti’s men that Eric had blown through, Daryl didn’t waste any time on them. There were twelve rooms on the floor, and from what he remembered, the crow had perched on the fourth window of the six rooms facing the street. Daryl cautiously made his way toward the door. He could hear a child crying through the door. “Joey Ferengetti, this is PC PD! Open up!” he commanded.

“He’s gone! Please help us!” a woman screamed though the door. Daryl tried the doorknob and found it gave way with ease, especially since wood from the doorjamb was missing, probably from Eric kicking the door in. He moved first to clear the room. Finding no else in the room, he put his gun back in the holster, sat on the edge of the bed, and checked on two on the bed. The woman was haphazardly covered with the bed sheets cradling her crying daughter. The little girl looked fine albeit upset. The same could not be said of her mother. The woman had bruises running down her arms, the beginnings of a black eye, and probably more underneath the sheets.

“Is she okay?” he asked the woman. She just nodded. He pulled out his cell phone and called dispatch. “This is Albrecht, badge 1022. I need a bus at the Montague in room 1126. Also contact Lieutenant Vincennes to let him know that the witness and the child have been recovered.” Getting the affirmative from the dispatcher, Daryl ended the call and spoke to the woman. “Listen, Sonia, right?” She nodded again. “I need to know what happened here.”

“It was Eric. He showed up right when Joey was about to… He knocked him out, untied me and handed Krissy to me. He took Joey with him. He said something about showing him the view from the top,” she recalled, her voice almost as frantic as her daughter’s cries.

“Okay. Thanks. Back-up should be here soon.” He got up from the bed and looked in the closet, finding a white, terrycloth robe; he pressed it into Sonia’s hands. “Here, put this on. I’m sure you’ll feel better in this than those sheets.” He waited for her nod and continued, “I’m gonna to go find them.” _‘Hopefully, I’ll find them before Eric does something crazy,’_ he thought. It didn’t take much to figure out where Draven had taken Joey Ferengetti. He just hoped showing the view from the top didn’t include giving flying lessons.

**~8~**

Daryl opened the access door to the roof of the Montague. He wasn’t surprised to hear a man screaming. He ran toward the screams to see Draven crouched on the ledge facing the back of the casino watching something below. Daryl came up beside him and looked down. There was Joey Ferengetti hanging off the side of the building, his left arm wrapped around bed sheets that Eric held the other end of. “Pull him up, Eric!” Daryl commanded.

“Welcome to the party, Albrecht!” the Crow said, ignoring Daryl’s command. “Want to play with the piñata?” The Crow swung the terrified man into the side of the building. Daryl cringed as Joey Junior slammed into the building, but breathed a sigh of relief to see he was still hanging and moving.

"Ahh! Oh, God! Motherfuck! Pull me up, man!" the man below screamed.

Knowing his gun wasn't a useful deterrent against the dark-haired man, Daryl knew his only recourse was to try talking him down. Quickly. "Not really in the mood to play, man,” Daryl said, putting his gun back in its holster. He kept his movements slow as he came closer to Eric’s side. The man was still in the hold of his other persona judging by the pale and black makeup on the man’s face. “Eric, Sonia and Krissy are safe now and I guarantee Joey here will get what he deserves."

"None of them ever get what they deserve, Albrecht. Not really. Tin-Tin, T-Bird, and Kesseler are prime examples of that. They all think they can just take what they want. That since the police can’t catch them, there won’t any consequences! I'm gonna change that, starting with this little worm!" the Crow proclaimed, emphasizing his point by slamming Joey into the building again. This time there was no loud screams, just small whimpers and groans.

"Stop! Just stop, Eric! What gives you the right to be judge, jury, and executioner?" Daryl argued. "They did when they killed me, Shelly, and all the others!" the Crow declared, not taking his eyes off of his prey.

"I don't believe that your 'Other Side' wants that. You told me that killing Top Dollar set you back in a big way. That first time might have been a warning, Eric. If you kill this guy in cold blood, you may never see Shelly or the ‘Other Side’ again," Daryl said, calmly, trying reason instead of of anger. He also hoped that Shelly would once again rescue Draven from himself.

"Shelly's already gone, Albrecht!" Eric shouted, shifting his eyes from Joey Junior to Daryl. It was then that Daryl saw it. The white and black make-up of the Crow may still be in place, but Daryl finally saw Eric beneath the Crow, the man that loved Shelly Webster with his last breath and beyond. Now, all of this made some sense; Eric was grieving. Grieving for both him and Shelly, and the anger spun from that grief was going to destroy him. Daryl understood that anger. He'd lost friends on the force, often in violent ways, and he'd seen others fall into that spiral of grief and anger. Many of them never found a way out of it. No. He'd be damned before he let it happen again.

"And this isn't going to bring her back. You kill this man, they will hunt you and when they find you, there will be nothing left for you, but four walls of a prison cell. You'll lose everyone that cares about you in _this_ life: Shea, Sarah, and me!" Daryl countered, deciding that if anger and reason weren't going to work, then maybe some hard truth would. The wail of police sirens was coming closer, counting down to the moment of Eric's choice. Daryl closed his eyes and prayed that his words had struck some chord in the raven-haired man. "Don’t let this _man_ be the end of you, Eric. Pull him up. Please," he pleaded once more, his voice barely a whisper.

He heard a yell and snapped his eyes open, expecting to see Joey Ferengetti Junior falling to the pavement below. He heard a groan behind him. He turned and saw Joey Junior laid out on the rooftop, clutching his left arm tight to his body, the sheet that held him suspended above the pavement was flailing in the wind, only held down by Joey’s body. Daryl looked back to Eric, only to find him gone. _‘Figures. Damn vanishing act...’_ he thought to himself, though there was more relief than annoyance in those words. By the time his back-up arrived, Daryl had Joey Junior cuffed, having pointedly ignored his curses and groans while performing that act, and in the elevator heading to the lobby.

**~8~**

Well, the day was filled with mostly good news for the case. Sonia and Krissy were okay and back with the U.S. Marshals, Joey Ferengetti was going to end up sharing a cell with his father, and the marshal that was protecting Sonia had progressed from critical condition to critical and stable condition, meaning that unless something major happened, he was going to pull through. The chewing out that he got from Vincennes for letting Draven run wild wasn’t unexpected. Thankfully, since there was little forensically linking Eric to any of the scenes that was all Vincennes did to him.

Overall, it was a good day. Now, if only he could find Eric. He’d gone by the loft, Sarah’s apartment, and even the man’s grave looking with nary a sign of him. Daryl was going to give it up and return to the station to finish the deluge of paperwork that has sure to have sprung from this whole debacle when one last place came to mind.

When he pulled up at the _Blackout_ , the club was in full swing with the line to get in disappearing around the building’s corner. He went up to the bouncer, ignoring the jeers and curses he received from the waiting patrons, flashed his badge, and said he needed to talk to Shea. The man looked him over, perhaps wondering if he was the real deal. Daryl stared right back at him. A moment later and the man stepped aside, allowing Daryl entry. The woman he was looking for wasn’t too hard to find, especially since her blond curls made her stick out from behind the bar. Though, her being back there was unusual since she was the establishment’s owner.  He waved at her to get her attention. He squeezed between two guys waiting for their drinks.

“Hi, Albrecht! What can I get you?” she shouted over the music as she handed the one of the men his drink and started on the other man’s beverage.

“Hey, Shea. Nothing. I’m still on duty. Have you heard from Draven?” he shouted back. In response, she merely nodded upward. Daryl looked over his shoulder and up to see Eric leaning forward, his forearms resting over the upper walkway’s railing. “Thanks!” he called back to her as he navigated a path through the crowd, more than a little determined. What he was going to say to the lean man once there, Daryl didn’t have the slightest clue, but he refused to let that scare him. The couple standing beside Eric didn’t want to move from their ‘perfect’ listening spot and the looks they shot Daryl said very clearly that they didn’t appreciate his existence in their space. That is until Daryl’s badge quickly suggested that their spot wasn’t as perfect as they thought, deciding to enjoy the music elsewhere. Daryl mimicked Eric’s stance, forearms over rail and eyes straight out overlooking the crowd. They stood like that, each to his own thoughts as the music played and for once Daryl was glad for the silence between them.

Normally, Eric’s quiet demeanor was frustrating to Daryl because it meant that there was more to the story than he was getting, especially where the ‘Other Side’ was concerned. Now, that silence was a blessing, a chance to catch his breath. There was so much that went on today. Things said that he did even know how to begin to talk about, or even if they needed to be talked about. All Daryl really wanted was to go home and forget all of this, but he couldn’t. If nothing else, there was one thing that he had to ask, one thing he had to make sure of. When the band stopped to take a break, Daryl’s mouth was opening to form his question.

“You’re here to arrest me, Albrecht?” Eric asked, unknowingly cutting Daryl off.

“Depends. Who’s running the show: Draven or Crow?” Daryl questioned, turning to look at Eric. Though the face was without the make-up, Daryl was not one to assume anything regarding the man next to him. With the question asked, Daryl hoped that the answer was Draven. Partly because he had no idea what he would or could do if it wasn’t him, but mostly, he wanted to make sure that he still had his friend.

The raven-haired man took a deep breath that Daryl knew he didn’t need and turned to face him. “It’s me, Albrecht. It’s Eric,” he said. The words did little to convince Daryl of that, but the eyes told a more compelling tale. The cold, blackness of the Crow’s eyes were absent, in their place were the soft, brown eyes of Eric Draven. A breath that Daryl didn’t even realize he was holding blew out of him in nervous relief. _‘Oh, thank goodness. I really didn’t want to find out if I could arrest the other one,’_ Daryl thought.

“Good to know. I really don’t like arresting my friends. Once was enough,” Daryl stated.

“Technically, you arrested me twice,” Eric replied.

“Yeah, but you weren’t my friend then,” Daryl retorted, smiling at Eric. If Daryl had not been watching Eric’s face at that moment, he would have missed the slight frown that took over before he turned back toward the stage. “Draven, about what happened earlier—”

“You know, this is where I met Shelly,” Eric interrupted. “I was on stage and I saw this guy harassing her. I’d seen a scene like that more times than I can count, but something... something in me couldn’t, no, wouldn’t let it stand this time.” From the side, Daryl saw the Eric’s lips curve slightly into a sad smile. “She had the prettiest smile and as I got to know her, her soul called to me. Now that she isn’t waiting for me, her soul can move on, but how can I stay here without her?” Eric inquired.

Whether the question was for Daryl or his Other Side, Daryl didn’t know, but he decided to give the man next to him the blunt and honest answer. “You’ll do what we all do when someone we love is taken from us: grieve and live.”

“Live? That’s kind of beyond me now, Albrecht,” Eric said, jokingly.

“No, it isn’t,” Daryl replied, not finding Eric’s comment funny. “Just because you’re the way you are doesn’t mean you can’t live. You do it when you hang out with Sarah, work security for Shea, or help me with a case.” He grabbed the man’s upper arm and turned Eric toward him to make sure that he had his attention. “To move on from a loss like yours, you have to reconnect with those in your life or you’ll be dead inside as well. Shelly wouldn’t want that for you, Eric.” Daryl watched as Eric’s brows furrowed, whether he was confused or pissed off by what Daryl had told him he couldn’t tell. _‘At least, he’s thinking about that instead of just what he has loss,’_ Daryl thought. Since the band was starting back up, Daryl decided to leave the man to ruminate on that piece of wisdom. Daryl patted him on the back in farewell and walked out of the _Blackout_.

Getting into his car, Daryl gripped the steering wheel and slowly let out a breath, some of that nervous energy flowing out with it. He was beyond glad that Eric was back to normal—well, Eric’s normal because there was nothing normal about that man’s current situation. The fact that he didn’t have to arrest, okay, _try_ to arrest, Eric was one of the biggest reliefs Daryl had ever felt in his life. It was almost guaranteed that none of that would have ended well. Starting the car and pulling out of its parking space, Daryl decided to head home. _‘The paperwork can wait ‘til morning. I need a stiff drink and a bed.’_ Whether intentional or not, the discussion that Daryl wanted to have with Eric was delayed for another time and whether that was a good thing or a bad one was something that only time would tell.

* * *

Eric watched as Albrecht went down the steps and left the club. He still couldn’t believe what had happened today, or rather what _he_ had let happen. His Crow going out of control was so unexpected. He’d thought he was doing what the Skull Cowboy advised him to do: reconnect. Despite his actions, all of it just led to him totally losing himself in his anger, in the Crow’s thirst for vengeance for Sonia.

“That was some great advice. I seem to remember somebody giving you the same bit of knowledge before this whole mess started. Hmm, I wonder who that wise individual was?” the Skull Cowboy inquired as he grinned at Eric. Eric sighed. He really wasn’t in the mood to deal with the sardonic messenger from the Other Side.

“Evening, Skull Cowboy,” Eric acknowledged.

“Nice to see you back, Eric! Did you enjoy your trip to the wild side, bring back any souvenirs?” The dark-skinned man grabbed Eric’s chin, forcing him to look directly at him. “Learn any lessons?” he continued, the ever present smile replaced with the most serious expression Eric had ever seen grace him. Looking into those usually sunglass-covered eyes, Eric could feel something lurking, a darkness restrained. A darkness could easily overshadow his own. With his chin within the emissary’s grasp, the most Eric could give as a stilted nod. The bright, white smile return and with an, in Eric’s opinion, overly enthusiastic “Good!”, the Skull Cowboy straighten and readjusted his black, leather jacket. “Nice music, man,” the dark man commented, nodding toward the stage. He looked around the club as if it was the first time he’d been there. “This place definitely has a certain ambiance.” The dark man said nothing more as he walked down the stairs and vanished from Eric’s sight; the sound of bones shaking the only thing left behind, though that too faded into the music.

_‘Learn any lessons?’_

The Skull Cowboy’s words echoed through him. He had told the truth when he’d answered. The one thing that was and will always be true about his Crow is that he wanted what Eric desired and didn’t care what or who got in the way of obtaining it. It was a lesson that he had to reacquaint himself with and this time he had a first-hand view from start to finish. It began when he’d unleashed the Crow on those unsuspecting grunts at the apartment complex.

_ They were lucky he hadn’t killed them; no, they were lucky that they weren’t the source of his rage. One of the men remained conscious long enough to tell him that they had no idea where Joey Junior had taken the mother and daughter after taking delivery of them. They had only come back to the apartment to eliminate any trace of their occupancy. With no other leads and his avian companion not being very forthcoming, he headed back to his place. Just one problem, he found he wasn’t in full control. His Crow persona had not faded and the more Eric tried to pull it back, the more he realized that he couldn’t. _

_Unfortunately, the rage he held for Sonia and her daughter’s situation feed the Crow and the Crow’s frustration with nowhere to go feed his rage creating an endless cycle that Eric had no idea how to break. Before Daryl had shown up, the Crow stewed over the_ justice _he deliver unto Joseph Ferengetti Junior once he’d found him._ Many of those imaginings made Eric cringe now in the remembering. _The decision to try to find Ferengetti again with his companion was just made when Daryl arrived at the loft. Eric had tried to break through to warn Daryl, but it felt like titanium ropes were holding him in place within his mind. All he could do was watch, listen, and feel as his body clenched Daryl to him, and the words that passed from his lips to Daryl’s ears. He’d felt Daryl’s body as it went straighter, frozen in shock perhaps. The next moment found him heading to the Montague._

_The faces of the men that stood between him and Joey were a blur. Joey’s face, with its confident smirk as he pointed his gun at him and called Eric an idiot for thinking that he could pull off a rescue, was perfectly clear as was Sonia’s. Sonia was tied to the bed, her face a mix of fear, disgust, and helplessness._ Eric could feel his bones cracking at the memory of her in that room. _At the time, Eric’s rage must have shown on his face and spooked Joey because Joey took his shot, which went right between Eric’s eyes and out the back of his skull. His head snapped back from the bullet’s impact, then he brought it back forward. He watched as that confident smile faded into disbelief and finally terror as the bullet hole closed completely. Joey fired the gun several more times, though his aim those times wasn’t as good as the first. It was simple task to take the gun from Joey, knock him unconscious, untie Sonia, and hand Krissy to her. The tears Sonia shed as she held her daughter, tears of joy and relief, made something ease within him. Maybe it was his rage or something else, he really couldn’t say, but it was further appeased watching Joey hang from the side of the building. The first sense of self came back when Daryl knelt beside him on that roof._

Daryl’s plea, his rationality, reminded Eric that there are those that care about him. Moreover, that he had people that _he_ cherished. People like Sarah, street-wise but not hardened by it and always ready to do anything for the few and precious friends she had. _‘Yeah, Sarah wouldn’t let me go that easy,’_ he thought to himself. Just picturing his little friend’s determined face brought a smile to his lips. _‘I’d do the same for her.’_ It was for those people that he’d broken though and thrown Joey back onto the roof.

Daryl was also one of those people too. His integrity was something that Eric admired about him. His conviction to the right thing, even when it isn’t what Eric believed to be the _just_ thing, has many times been a much needed compass for him. A compass Eric wasn’t sure he still had after he’d basically assaulted the detective. A shiver ran through him as he recalled Daryl’s body pressed flush against his hips.

Yeah, he’d learned something from all of this. He learned that he needed to focus on the life that Eric Draven has now and not strictly on the path the Other Side may have set before him, not if he didn’t want to lose his way. He also learned that he needed Daryl Albrecht, a fact that was apparently well-known to him even if it was only subconsciously. His body’s reaction clearly moved that need from the platonic realm to one of desire.

Eric sighed as he rubbed his face with his hands. There was no easy way to fix this mess he’d made. Hell, he didn’t even know if it could be fixed. He’d only seen Daryl with Cordelia and his partner, Jessica Capshaw. No way of knowing if Daryl was willing to enter into that type of territory with him and if he were honest with himself, he wasn’t so sure about himself in that territory. Shelly was really the only long-term romantic relationship he’d ever had. She’d breathed light into his soul with her smile, claimed it for her own. With Shelly gone, could he let Daryl do the same? With Shelly, the connection was instant and easy. He and Daryl fought hard for their friendship and trust in one another. Could he really risk that? 

Feeling something shaking his shoulder, Eric jerked out of his reverie. Shea stood beside him, looking more than a little concerned. “Are you all right, Eric?”

Realizing that he didn’t hear the buzz of music, Eric looked around him. The entire upper aisle was deserted and there were only a few stranglers below, possibly trying to get a little one-on-one with the band. It was closing time. He’d been there the entire night. Based on the concerned, slightly freaked out expression on Shea’s face, he had spent that time entirely tuned out. He wasn’t even sure he’d breathed during that time.

He straighten and gave the club owner a small smile. “No worries, Shea. Just have a lot on my mind.”

“You sure? I know you have your morose moments, but this seemed a little different,” she responded.

That reminded Eric that Shea knew him, perhaps not as well as Sarah or Daryl, but enough to read his moods. He stepped close to her ad drew her into a short hug. He pulled back and tried to reassure her. “I promise. Everything’s fine; just one of those long days that gave me a lot to think about.” Before she could say more, he was half-way down the stairs. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, boss!” he tossed back over his shoulder.

As the doors of the Blackout shut behind him, Eric resolved himself to doing exactly what Daryl suggested: live this life. To truly do that, he was going to have to follow his Crow once again down the broken road and hope that it led him and Daryl to what they need and not destroy what they already have.

  **~8~**

End Chapter 4.

_Notes from original posting:_

AN: I know! It’s been an age since I updated this fic, but my Crow muse would not leave me alone. There will be one more chapter of this story that (hopefully!) will wrap things up.

I’m currently working on the next chapter to my other fic, Link Established, so it may be a while before I updated. Thank you to all who have read this fic and special thanks to those that have reviewed!

Happy New Year (2014) to all!


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